Her sister spoke almost sharply, for she felt her own courage fast giving way. Then, sitting down on the side of the bed, with her beautiful brown hair waving loose about her shoulders, she took her sister's hand in hers. "Jessie dear," she said gently; "listen to me, please. You and I mustn't give up so and cry about this; we must be brave and cheerful for mamma's sake. Poor mamma is out there all alone, and we must go to her and help her to bear it all. We are stronger than she is, and we have each other, so we must help each other and help her. We've had a great many good times already, and nothing can take those away; but now comes the chance to show what we are, and whether we have any courage. There will be a great deal to do when we get home, so we have no right to give up and make ourselves ill with crying. Now we must go to bed and try to sleep, so we can be ready for to-morrow; and--Oh, Jessie, if we only knew where papa was to-night! He was always so good and kind that I know he has never done anything wicked." Katharine's head went down on the pillow beside Jessie's, and the two daughters sobbed together over their father's guilt. They were all at the station to see them off the next night. The sun was just setting as the train moved away, and the little group of three on the rear platform looked back to see its golden light fall upon the friends they were leaving: the girls, Alan, Dr. and Mrs. Adams, and even patient old Job, who stood quietly in the background, watching the scene about him with a half wondering air of sympathy. Jessie turned to enter the car. "Wait just a minute more," said Katharine wistfully. A sudden opening between the buildings gave her one more glimpse of the figures still standing there as they had left them, and Katharine strained her eyes to catch the parting wave of Alan's cap, while her lips quivered. Then she exclaimed excitedly,-- "See, Jessie! See!" They were just passing within sight of the hospital and, from a well-known window, a hand was waving a farewell to them. It was Bridget, who had begged to be moved to the window, that she might be the one to say the final good by, before the train went rushing away into the gathering twilight. "I feel as if I had just been to a funeral," sighed Molly, as she walked home with Polly; for she and Alan were to stay with Mrs. Adams during their mother's absence. "It was just like one," said Jean sorrowfully. But Polly objected. "No, girls," she said; "no funeral was ever like this, for a funeral is all sad, and this isn't. I'm sorry for them, more so than I can tell; but, after all, it has given Katharine a chance to show how glorious she is. It just makes me glad to know such a magnificent girl." And Alan added,-- "Yes, you may talk all day about your heroines; but I've just seen one of them, and it's a sight I shan't forget soon, either." CHAPTER XX. ONE LAST GLIMPSE.